Blade and Bow in Hand
by RedMerchant
Summary: They were the forgotten children―and they, themselves, let their memories slip between their fingers. For that, they would pay the price. [Ashera's Curse Parallel; a rewrite of "The Huntress."][Cover art by me.]


_Please read the Author's Note at the bottom._

* * *

The title, _Tellius: a History, _shimmered when she tilted the book in the dim light. Althea smoothed her palm over the leather binding, fingertips tracing the medallion embellished on the cover. No author left a name. The only evidence of a writer was, curiously, a tiny snowflake motif on the bottom.

Therefore, though she'd been reading it since she knocked it from the top of Priam's dusty bookshelf, she took _everything_ with a grain of salt.

Althea flipped to the folded corner and scanned for where she left off. Only a mere few pages remained until they halted at the back cover.

"_Though the two goddesses reunited into Ashunera, eventually the people of Tellius drove another wedge between themselves. It is said that the Goddess was ripped in two once again. In native lore, Yune, Goddess of Chaos, abandoned the country to search elsewhere for a hero._"

She swiped to the next page.

"_It should be noted that Yune was not sent off without apparent hostile threats from her sister, Ashera. It is said that Ashera laid a curse upon her sister, but the effects of the curse are unknown._"

Though Althea's eyes glazed over by the end of the passage, she _knew_ it held key information. But gods, she had no idea _why_. "How typical," she huffed, her forehead greeting the wooden desk, eyes straining in the light of the single candle.

_Scritch, scritch, scratch._

She sat bolt upright. Had a rat just run across the room? She certainly heard _something_.

No, no ― her imagination surely played tricks on her. Besides, if a rat so audaciously scurried into her house, it'd earn a shiny knife in its back. She chuckled at the thought. Running a hand through her golden bangs and adjusting the hairpiece holding her bun in place, she stared at the passage some more.

Because, of course, staring at it would _definitely_ bring her memories back. She groaned and flipped back to the table of contents.

This was a common phenomenon in the last month or so. Ever since she, along with two others, showed up on Giant's Garden, the three of them forgot everything. Well, not _everything_ ― Althea still dreamt of strange occurrences. Faint images of burning buildings and a girl dressed in blue still danced in the back of her mind.

Or, maybe some monster ate their memories, tried to replace them, and dumped them here. _In this absurd world, you never quite know what's going on.  
_

Suspicions aside, sometimes the dreams ― nay, _nightmares_ ― came vividly, and she relived a similar scenario several times over. From what she wrote in her dream journal, it appeared she and some allies made their way toward an objective, but something stopped them _every single time_. But if Althea really lived like that, how would she end up _here_? Or perhaps these dreams told not of the _past_, but of the _future_. Regardless, Althea felt as if she knew these people.

She scooted the chair back and yanked open a desk drawer. _Oh, boy,_ she huffed inwardly, squinting at the contents. No single item occupied her drawers; usually, she just tossed things inside and hoped she remembered where she put them.

_What was even I _looking_ for?_

For that matter, she lost her trail of thought, too. Even in her _head_, she lacked a sense of direction. She scoffed a bitter laugh and glanced back at the drawer, fingers sifting through the ocean of artifacts.

"Ow!" she hissed, hastily withdrawing to examine a drop of blood welling on her fingertip. She glanced back at the drawer.

The feeble light danced across a reflective surface.

Oh.

_See if _I_ ever toss my knives in _there_ again._

All things considered, she probably _would_, and the entire scenario would repeat itself in the next week or so.

She slumped down in her chair, sucking her fingertip and humming a nondescript tune. Her eyes drifted to the lute lying on the ground. It sat atop a shuffle of music sheets and sketches and probably some journal pages she ripped out for reasons she failed to remember.

She reached out for them and fell out of her chair. "Ow!" she barked, more in surprise than pain. Not that she was _really_ surprised, but―

A booming knock interrupted her thoughts.

"Who is it?" she called instinctively, crawling to the door of her study and cracking it open. She squinted in the light. Should she traverse into the common room? She already knew who it was from that obnoxious knock, after all. Did he hear her the first time? "Hello?" she sang, jumping to her feet and walking into the common room.

"It's me! Wesley! Let me in!"

"Hi Me Wesley!" she shouted. Maybe he would go away. She gulped, and inwardly kicked herself for thinking that; they were friends, after all. At least, she was pretty sure they were.

A few incoherent grumbles rumbled behind the wooden door. "Oh, _very_ clever. Now seriously, let me in."

"What if don't want to let you in?" she challenged, walking over and stopping just before the entryway, her hand on the doorknob. If he wished to bother her so early in the morning, then she could at _least_ tease him a bit. The sun was barely up, for Naga's sake.

A silence. Then, "If you didn't want me inside, then _why_ are you in front of the door?"

Althea jumped away. "I'm, uh, not in front of the door! Er, I'm in the study! Studying! Important things!" she yelled, trailing back to the study's entrance. He must've seen her toes beneath the doorway. _Rats_.

"Right," he deadpanned.

She frowned at a second silence. _Wait, is he leaving?_ No! She didn't want him to leave, it was― it was just a joke! Oh, but what if he took it the wrong way, or he was in a bad mood? Or what if something was _really_ wrong? She rushed back to the door and ripped it open, staring upward at the man.

Wesley, face slack and mildly displeased, stared back.

_He's too tall,_ she reminded herself briefly. _Everyone's too tall. Why is everyone so tall? Why am I so short? Why― _

Right, uh, important things. Emergencies to be dealt with. But, he didn't _look_ like he had an emergency. "What's wrong?" she questioned, mostly out of curiosity.

He scratched his nose absently, and shrugged. "Don't know."

"What do you mean you '_don't know_'? You wanted to tell me something," she huffed lightly. What was he going on about? Was he just pestering her?

"I forgot," he admitted nonchalantly, running a hand through his unkempt mop of silvery hair. He focused his eyes back on Althea and frowned.

She blinked. "Er... I guess it wasn't important, then?" she guessed. Her brow furrowed, and her fingers tangled themselves in the hem of her cloak.

He nodded his head in agreement. "Guess not, yeah."

"Will that be all?" she inquired flatly. _It's too early for this_, she complained inwardly.

Wesley, taken aback, seemed to take a few moments to round up his thoughts into a reply. "Er, yeah, I guess. Sorry to bother you..." he sighed. He looked ready to depart for his house.

"Why are you up at this hour, anyway? Usually you're half an hour late for meeting Mioko and I for breakfast," she recalled. Perhaps his forgotten sentiment really _was_ important. Maybe that's what bothered her so much about this.

He chewed his lip. Faint dark circles rimmed the bottom of his eyes. "Well, like I said, I forgot. So now that you've reminded me how much sleep I've missed... See you later," he mumbled, this time turning to leave.

"Um... Bye?" She waved hesitantly, though he never turned back around. She gulped. _What's up with him? _she pondered, drifting back inside and sitting at her table, fingers tracing the lines of the grain. "That was weird," she muttered to the table, as if it could hear her. If it _could_, then she better hope it's not a gossip.

She chortled weakly at her own joke. Wesley would've laughed at it, even though he laughed at any dumb joke. _Unless it's about his hair._

His alarmingly ornery disposition unnerved her. Whatever thought he woke with, it seemed urgent enough that he dragged himself all the way out to her house ― and seriously, he lived halfway across the island from her. It seemed like too much trouble to go through for a lazy bum like him, unless it was _important_.

She sighed through her nose.

The sun was beginning to rise higher. _I should go find Mioko_, she decided.

* * *

The collision of blades clanged in Mioko's ears. The outside world rippled in and out of view, and her eyes remained locked on Ragnell. With her own sword raised against it, one could wonder why the great swordsman Priam challenged a nobody such as herself.

But, in the end, she knew he considered himself one of these _nobodies_. "_I'm still just a man,_" she recalled him saying.

Ragnell darted her way.

She glanced it off the flat of her blade and jumped to the side, returning the jab.

Their blades continued to clash until, in the split second she faltered, Mioko was slammed into the ground by her opponent.

His hulking form blocked out the sun, Ragnell held to her throat.

"Damn," she rasped, "beaten again." Her heartbeat sped up. Being in such close quarters with Priam pumped fire through her veins ― a feeling she often wished would subside.

He grinned triumphantly and jumped to his feet. He offered a hand. "Hey, you _did_ win once. Keep training, and you'll do it again."

She grimaced at the offer, deciding she required no such help from the man who always bested her in combat. He spoke truthfully; once, when she first met him, she managed to disarm him in a matter of seconds. She knew nothing of how, or why, or even if she was in full control of herself at the time.

She pushed herself to her feet.

Priam shrugged at the ignored offer and straightened. He held Ragnell out in front of him, examining its rugged cracks with a trace of concern in the curves of his face.

The same face that made her stomach turn a flip.

She gulped, and gripped her forearms. Even if she allowed herself to feel something for him, he already dedicated himself to the sword. This, she understood ― and this, she refused to come between. She felt the same way about her own path, after all. That's why they talked so often; because they shared a love of swordsmanship.

Still, Mioko thought back to when she first laid eyes on him. It was like seeing a friend after ten years. Like coming home.

_Why am I thinking about this?_

Ultimately, these... _Feelings_ became increasingly distracting to her. Besides, what hope laid in a future with him? They barely knew one another, and both dedicated themselves to a solitary way of life. He surely forged closer bonds with other females aside from her, after all. Or he decided not to marry.

And, seeing as they barely knew one another, she couldn't really trust him, could she?

Perhaps what frustrated her the most was that her head failed to convince her heart of its treachery.

"May I... Take another look at your sword?" Priam requested.

She started at his sudden words, but her eyes trailed to her blade, now sheathed. _Of course_, she realized. His interest in her probably stemmed from her sword's history. However, whenever she looked at it, a heaviness settled in. She swiftly unbuckled the sheath from her belt and wordlessly tossed Priam the weapon. _Keep it_, she willed herself to say, but she needed a sound sword, and she'd take what came to her.

His face lit up like a child on his birthday.

She remembered the first time she witnessed the transformation ― all preconceived notions of the stoic warrior Priam had faded away in an instant. What a little kid.

"Ah," he sighed, "the mighty Alondite." The silver glow traced his rugged complexion, and reflected off of his mop of hair.

For some reason, looking at the two together made her even more uncomfortable.

"I wonder if this was passed down to you," he pondered. "Or perhaps you won it in a match? Or found it?" While he considered the possibilities, he sat upon a tree stump, laid Alondite in his lap, and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

She swallowed a lump in her throat. "I killed a man for it," she declared, at first joking, but a knot formed in her stomach. How many lives stained her hands? _Had_ she killed to obtain such a fabled weapon?

She didn't want Alondite, she realized. She wanted nothing to do with its history, or the implications it carried.

Priam merely raised a quizzical brow at her.

Before they spoke another word, Althea hopped in from Naga-knows-where and invited Priam and Mioko to eat breakfast with her. Priam declined. He wanted to sneak in solitary training before a meal.

So Althea and Mioko walked in silence to Althea's house. Wesley never showed up, oddly enough, and part of Mioko felt relieved.

She and Wesley were declared siblings by Althea, who apparently remembered the most out of the three of them. And, seeing as Althea barely remembered squat, it hit Mioko like a brick.

Damn, they were _pathetic_.

Althea finally cleared her throat. She tended to do that a lot, Mioko noted. "So, uh... How was your sparring match? Any... Um, wins?" Althea prodded, with her meek voice and hesitant demeanor. That girl ought to have more confidence in her words.

Though, Mioko was one to talk. "Good," she replied bluntly. No one needed to know the details of her personal life.

"Okay... Uh, how are you today?"

"Good."

Althea sighed.

Mioko almost released a flat laugh. Even Althea was beginning to grow tired of Mioko, and soon enough, the only thing that would bind them together would be the memory loss.

Funny how obligations between friends worked out.

They ate the rest of their breakfast in silence and Mioko stalked back to her house, with a final glance at the sacred sword strapped to her belt; or rather, the burden she consciously carried with her.

* * *

_Author's Note:_

_Although this is a sidestory, it's actually very relevant to the plot I have for Fire Emblem. Please tell me if introducing three OCs at once was too much. I tried to break it up so it wouldn't be a scramble, but it might've ended up confusing._

_**To my new readers**: This story is chiefly about my three OCs. It features other canon characters, but if you want a story mainly about canon characters, look elsewhere._

_If you haven't left yet, thank you! This is the 2nd sidestory to _Ashera's Curse_. You don't have to read _Ashera's Curse_ if you don't want to, in order to enjoy this story. But _Blade and Bow in Hand_ **will** eventually merge with AC, so keep that in mind._

_**To my old readers**: __Althea might be a familiar character to you. I have a habit of recycling my OCs into different fandoms, so be prepared to see them in different places. In the original Huntress, her name was Annette. Sorry for the confusion._

_I rebooted this story because I didn't like where the original was going. I also struggle with Mioko's character, so I'm balancing the narration between the three. I'm carefully plotting the three stories so they tie together better._

_Thanks for reading, and please leave a review with your thoughts!_

_― Red ✎_

_P.S.) The girl on the cover is Althea. I'm working on a cover that'll feature all three of the protags soon B)_


End file.
